


Life After Peace

by manmiles



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manmiles/pseuds/manmiles
Summary: Eventually, after the total destruction of the Decepticons. The Autobots settled down to a life of peace and reconstruction.It lasted three hours before a new and even more bitter war began over leadership.Decades later as the war-torn planet of Cybertron is descending into entropy and destruction, Rodimus Prime, the former Autobot Leader returns to the warring tribes he abandoned to try and find out what is happening to Cybertron and what can be done about it. But, as Autobot fights Autobot over the last scant resources, will anybody stop fighting long enough to help him and do they have enough time before Cybertron dies anyway?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by, and continues from the TFUK story 'Peace', a one-off, alternate future story that featured in the 1989 Transformers Annual put out by Marvel UK.
> 
> To basically sum 'Peace' up. In the year 2510, the Autbots have finally defeated the Decepticons, but due to the actions of Triton, a Decepticon spy, a new civil war begins between who gets to lead the Autobots, Springer or Ultra Magnus.

Life After Peace

Chapter One- 'From out of the Wastes.'

 

And then, one day, the guns stopped. The last Decepticon was dead and the Autobots could finally put down their weapons and work out how to rebuild a decimated race on a planet that had long ago been pushed past the point of no return. Faced with a situation like that, the Autobots seen fell into petty arguments over leadership and command and, faced with the prospect of trying to sort a problem that was quite literally unsolvable, they just divided into more factions and it all started again. A new civil war began, fueled by beings who had been fighting for so long, fighting was really all they had left.

Those three hours were the most peaceful three hours that Cyberton had ever had in centuries.

Rodimus put a hand to the ground and pushed. The ground, once cool, tough metal gave slightly, stretching from the force of his touch. Pulling back his hand, Rodimus watched as the ground slowly resumed it's shape. Looking about him, Rodimus reached down and pushed down on the ground, digging his fingers deep into the metal. Now, a series of finger-marks could be seen slowly springing back into it's original form. The pocket-scanner in his kit didn't yield any sufficient results, according to it's readings, there was the ground, the ground was still the same surface metal that Cybertron's upper layers always had been, any changes would be occurring at a deeper, more molecular level and that was far beyond the scanner's pay grade. Standing, Rodimus pocketed the scanner and looked around him. A collection of bombed own, dilapidated buildings and spires looked back at him, their broken windows dead eyes looking out onto bomb craters and shattered roadways. Some of the buildings slowly sinking into the ground. Rodimus needed Perceptor, or Brainstorm, one of the numerous scientific advisors who could look at something like this and tell him what was going on in such precise detail, it would've been akin to a message from God. Rodimus knew though, the basic gist of what was going on, even he didn't need that explaining to. 

Cybertron, was transforming. Not like it's children, clutching to petty squabbles in their death-throes, not the technical majesty of one mode to another, but the planet was undergoing a transformation of it's own. Cybertron was nearing a final death and as it did so, the ecological effects were starting to become more and more known. Maybe it was for the best, Rodimus thought to himself sardonically, the planet didn't have much going for it to begin with. He had first started noticing the changes during his 'traveling,' (although 'exile', would be a far better word, maybe just be truthful and say 'cowardice.') how many years had it been since he'd even stuck his nose out of Autobase, preferring to live through daily combat reports and dryly written mission debriefings? Perhaps that it was the simple truth that, at the end of everything, Rodimus Prime couldn't really deny that the planet had been well and truly pushed past the point of no return. Everything just felt... flat. Most of the mountains had been worn away by time and war, even the Rust Sea had stopped moving and hardened, it seemed. Even what remained of the cities were slowly being swallowed up by the ground. It seemed apt, that after a war that had spanned eons of time, all they had really won was the right to die via planetary collapse. That was if anyone survived the new war. After surviving to achieve peace at the end of one war, it looked like the new war was going to be murder.

Before leaving the shelter of Iacon's remains, Rodimus went through the routine as he did at the start of every cycle. The inventory of equipment (energon-rations, communicator, repair-kit, magnet-clamps, emergency shelter) followed by his small arsenal (photon-grenades, two blaster rifles, a depressingly small number of power packs for said blasters) was counted, double-counted and placed safely into personal storage. Satisfied that he was ready, Rodimus grabbed the two halves of his Pretender Armour and slipped it on. The Armour wasn't his, he had stolen it months ago when he realised that the signals he put out allowed him to be easily tracked. Rodimus had killed a 'bot for that Armour and it'd taken long enough to reconfigure it for his own personal use. He'd not known the name, he wasn't even sure which faction he was on. Not that the factions really mattered anymore, they all ended in the same name- Autobot. If this was what peace was, forget it, when it was Autobot vs. Decepticon, it was much easier to draw the lines.

The spaceport was another two days away, one of the last of the planet's still working spaceport's according to Rodimus' research. All the others had been quickly destroyed, it seemed that was the Autobots had fallen into the madness of Civil War, self-destructive urges had taken hold and the factions had taken care to smash up the lot. The only one left now belonged to the Magnus Autobots and Rodimus trusted that out of all of them, he could put his faith in Ultra Magnus. Rodimus hoped for that desperately, even if Rodimus had spurned Magnus by not choosing him for the role of Autobot Leader after him. He didn't know, the moment the fighting had broken out, back when Triton had almost been shot by Roadbuster, Rodimus had... Rodimus had... Rodimus shook his head, trying to reassign the memories somewhere else. Dwelling on the past was something he couldn't do right now, getting off Cybertron was the main. Getting off the planet and getting as far away from everyone as he could before-  
“Hey!” The figure jumped out from behind a twisted metal edifice that stabbed up out of the ground. Pulling a rifle, Rodimus pointed it at the figure, but didn't fire, the Micromaster started to scramble towards him, keeping their arms raised as the repeatedly shouted that they were unarmed.   
“Which side are you on?” asked the Micromaster. As he stopped before Rodimus, Rodimus could see that the small Micromaster's chassis was dented and scarred in numerous places, the main standout was the Autobrand, the original, unbastadised, corrupted Autobrand, the same one on Rodimus himself wore, not many still wore that particular type.  
“I'm an Autobot.”  
“Yeah,” said the Micromaster with a bitter smirk. “We're all Autobots, friend. But you with Magnus? The Wreck-Lords? Tribe-Power? The Rebuilders? You're clearly not one with Faction Micromaster.” The Micromaster patted the top of his head. “Hate to break it to you, there's a pretty big requirement. You must be this tall to join.” The Micromaster laughed at his own joke. “Big requirement, you know, I probably had the worst sense of humour in my entire team. Well, they're probably all dead now, is that funny? No, it's not funny. Not really.”  
“The only side that matters to me,” said Rodimus glumly. “Autobot. Heroic Autobot.”  
The Micromaster laughed. “That's cute.” He stuck out a hand. “Name's Moonrock.”  
Reaching out to take the diminutive hand, Rodimus stopped and considered. In all this time, he'd never thought of a name. He hadn't been in many situations where he'd needed an alias. He was one of the most recognisable faces on the whole damn planet!   
“Dantron.” Rodimus grasped the hand between thumb and forefinger of his pretender armour and shook as gently as he could. “I'm Dantron.”  
“Cool,” said Moonrock, pulling free. “Now we're all friends, you want to tell me where you're heading?”  
“Space-port,” Rodimus pointed to the flat horizon.   
“Good luck,” said Moonrock. “Magnus might be the best of the guzzler's to weld yourself too, but he's still a guzzler with all the guzzler ways that go with it.” Tapping his head, he continued. “Old-fashioned ways, big-bot ways and not really worrying who's gonna get squashed underfoot. I was always a Micro, you see.”  
“I'm getting off-planet.”  
“You and everyone else who wants off. That's why Magnus hasn't destroyed it if you catch my meaning. Best way to catch deserters is to own the one thing all these guys want. A way off.”  
“What do they do with the deserters?”  
Placing two fingers against his skull, Moonrock pantomimed blowing his brains out.  
“We never killed deserters,” said Rodimus, disgusted. That couldn't be right, could it? He couldn't remember a time when the Autobots had ever stooped as low as executing deserters. If that was the case, Rodimus would've been up against the wall long ago along with every other Autobot who'd found themselves on Nebulos.  
“New rules from the guzzlers.” Moonrock sat down, folding both arms from behind his head. “You try and desert the planet, you get a energy blast to the back of your head and whatever fuel you've got left gets pumped out while it's still warm. Unless you're Faction Micro... they just-” Moonrock stopped, a grim look on his face. “Yeah, never mind that, okay? But I hope you've got some other goals, friend. Because you're staying on Cybertron.”  
“I need to find a scientist,” said Rodimus. “Somethings going on with the planet. I've been seeing signs of it all over and I just want to know that someone else is actually trying to do something about it.”  
“Then your best bet is still heading towards the port. Say what you like about Magnus, but he's...” Moonrock stopped and looked up, Rodimus instinctively found himself reaching for the rifle. “-That's if we get there. Scavengers are flying in. Multiple.”  
“Scavengers?”  
“At least five of 'em. They specifically hunt Micro's. Something about the energy signature we put off. We don't put up that much of a struggle.” Moonrock looked to Rodimus, a desperate, pleading look. “You want a way into the space-port? I know a way. Good for guzzler's too. I'll take you, I just need you to protect me. They got my friends, got too many of my friends. Please don't let them get me too.”  
Rodimus lifted the rifle and slipped in a fresh energy cartridge. “I'll protect you.” He muttered.  
“Heroic Autobot?” asked Moonrock. Rodimus grinned for the first time in centuries, he could feel the Pretender Armour's face gently mimic the expression.  
“Heroic Autobot.”

to be continued...


	2. Scavengers, Survivors and Cowards

CHAPTER TWO- Scavengers, Survivors and Cowards

They came in on sky-sled's, all long past the point of being safely repaired. Their fuel cores belching clouds of gas and chemical vapour into the air. With his optics at full magnification, Rodimus watched them intently. He couldn't recognise them, even after everything that had been done to them. The Scavengers had been 'bots he'd encountered before on his exiles. 'bots of a particularly vile inclination, as everything broke down and good repair-bays were hard to come by, the only solution left open had been one quite simple, the last line of moral behaviour for a species to cross.

Cannibalism.  
Tearing apart their victims to use their body parts to replace their own worn-down parts. Not even the sickest Decepticon had sunk that low. The various operations rendered the transformation circuits impotent, once, hiding in a foxhole, Rodimus had heard a rumour, that it was the transformation circuits still firing, despite the lack of connections that was driving the Scavengers insane. The energy impulses that triggered transformation had no-where to go but back to overload the brain circuits. It was only a rumour though, Rodimus took aim with the rifle as the first of the four Scavengers shot into range. The shot was clean, taking the first Scavenger's head off with one go, sending it spinning into the wastes. The rest of the party split away as the first sky-sled tumbled, hitting the ground, sending the still twitching corpse flying off in a way that was almost comical, arms and legs spinning end over end. Without hesitation, Rodimus prepped the charge for his next shot and took aim.  
“What're they doing?” asked Moonrock. Not responding, Rodimus watched as the remaining Scavengers turned back to inspect the sky-sled and their fallen fellow. Within minutes, they were already brawling over the remains, the target and the one who had shot them seemingly forgotten through the sheer lust for fresh body-parts. A consensus was quickly reached, Rodimus assumed when the brawling had finished, the three started to cut the body up with great care and reverence, divvying the limbs, chest-plates and other parts amongst themselves. The dead Scavenger's energon was last and this was shared amongst them. Rodimus took aim with the rifle again and fired. The shot went wide by five feet, going between the Scavengers, hitting the ground. Cursing, Rodimus prepared the next shell, he wasn't a sniper and even he couldn't always be lucky. The Pretender Shell he wore was a hindrance at times. The rather primitive nature of the armour's connection to his own circuits sometimes meant problems. Rodimus could throw a punch, he could run, jump, climb, but the delicate things, they were the true problems. The Scavenger's turned again in his direction, their eyes blazing with fury as they turned and ran to their sky-sled's.  
“Right,” he said to Moonrock. “Now it gets annoying. Hide.” 

Most of the buildings had collapsed toppled against another long ago. One of these creating a crawlspace large enough for both Rodimus and Moonrock to slip inside and into cover. The remaining Scavengers drew close by in their sky-sleds, jumping off and getting ready to search. Only one of them had a blaster, Rodimus noticed, long saws clasped tightly in the hands of the remaining two.  
“The shot came from over here, I'm sure of it.” The Scavenger's voicebox crackled and rasped, causing its vocal frequencies to jump around in sharp, painful ways.  
“You're sure, you're sure, you're always sure,” said the second. “I've got something though.” He tapped his head. “Fuel scanner's picking up energon traces. Probably a Micro.”  
“Couldn't be. No Micro could've taken a shot like that.”  
The third Scavenger slapped the two of them with his left arm. The right arm didn't seem to be attached well, dangling precariously from a few linkage cables trailing from the arm socket. Every few seconds, the arm would twitch spasmodically, sparks shooting off from the cables. Rodimus' attention was drawn to the very end of the arm, where it ended in a vicious, double-bladed axe.  
“Then we look. We grab the Micro, take it back to camp. Good thing too, I think we're going to be down a Micro or two by the time the week's out. Enough talking, you two, we don't have the energon for it.”  
The three broke out into a search pattern, each one shambling across the ground on mismatched legs, Rodimus kept his grip on the rifle tight, watching their movements. It wasn't their method that grabbed his attention, it was a standard search pattern, but the Autobrands still adorning their chests and arms. Anger flared in Rodimus at the sight of it, all three of them still wore than proudly, as if everything that they were doing, everything he'd seen them do to their dead comrade, it was an affront. This wasn't just a case of ideology, this was simple brutality. Rodimus checked to make sure the power-pack was still in the rifle. The one with the blaster, take him down first, he could shoot from the hip at this range and...  
The one with the axe stopped and turned in Rodimus' direction. “We shouldn't stay out here much longer.”  
“Magnus' boys don't come out as far as Iacon. We're safe.”  
“Doesn't feel safe.” The Scavenger stood up, head moving from left to right. “Don't you feel it? There's something wrong here.”  
“I think you've got bad build-up in your arm again.” The one with the tracking device grinned lasciviously. “Told you'd it'd be fit me better, the shorting out is driving you crazy.”  
“Shut-up!” said the third one. As the only one with a blaster, Rodimus kept his rifle trained on him best he could. If it came down to a fist-fight, he was sure he could beat the other two. “He's right. Can't you feel it? Beneath us, slight-”  
The ground began to warp suddenly, cold metal starting to bubble violently, Rodimus could see it, the three scavengers were too focused on everything else to notice. Grabbing Moonrock in his free arm, Rodimus burst from his hiding place, running.  
“Behind you!” he heard himself screaming at the Scavengers. “Beh-”  
The scavengers all saw him, just moments before their attention was dragged back behind them. The ground was starting to rise up, metal stretching and twisting like cold lava. The scavenger with the tracking device was the first to get caught up as his leg was swallowed up by the rising metal surface. As the huge metal bubble continued to grow and expand, the scavenger was sent hurtling up with it, half of his body now swallowed up, torso and arms twisting, his screams distorted by the speed of his ascent. Rodimus watched in horror for a few seconds before turning and beginning to run as fast as he could. The armour slowed him down, vehicle-mode would be much faster, but it was too valuable to lose. The second scavenger collided with him, sending all three of them falling. Moonrock flew from his grip, hitting the ground and bouncing away. Rodimus fell face-first, feeling the axe-blade thud deep into his armour's back. Rodimus held back a cry of pain as he struggled. Everything around him was overwhelming his sensors. The ground's intense rumbling, the vibrations, the hideous twisting sound of the metal shifting, the pain of the axe-bla- The axe thudded into the same spot again. Now? Rodimus wanted to scream. _You're trying to kill me now?_ Out of the corner of his view, the last scavenger was running in Moonrock's direction. It would be utterly effortless to scoop up the Micromaster and flee. Screw it, Rodimus Prime thought as he did the one thing he really didn't want to do.

The Pretender armour split into two, miniature catches situated all over joins and micro-fractures, the back half shot up, knocking the scavenger backwards. Rodimus quickly rolled free from the armour, grabbing the rifle as he did so. The scavenger regained his composure and looked to Rodimus. A moment's recognition made the scavenger freeze for a moment, hesitating long enough for Rodimus to shoot him from the chest. The back half of the armour fell back down onto the front half, sealing back together. Total control over the armour when he was outside of it was still difficult for Rodimus, even if his pain receptors still felt any damage it sustained. He could get it to stand and run, which was all he needed right now. The growing bubble of metal was as tall as one of Iacon's numerous bombed out buildings, the rate of it's growing finally starting to slow, Off to the distance, the last Scavenger had scooped up Moonrock, who struggled in his grasp as the Scavenger had climbed onto one of the sky-sled. Rodimus fired a warning shot, right next to the Scavenger's head, hitting the building beside him.  
“I'd appreciate it if you put my friend down,” said Rodimus. He sounded tired, his words flat. Rodimus had one last shot left in the rifle's power-pack and not enough time to slip in a fresh energy-cartridge. “I don't have many of them left.”  
The Scavenger looked at Rodimus, the fingers tightening around Moonrock's head. Rodimus knew that the Scavenger had also recognised him. He could feel the distinct sensation of being looked up and down.  
“Yes.” Rodimus said. “I'm him.”  
“Rodimus Prime,” said the Scavenger. “Autobot Leader.”  
“Your commanding officer,” said Rodimus, hoping that deep down in the Scavenger's half-crazed brain-unit, that might actually mean something once again. He tapped the Autobrand on his chest. “Autobot Leader, Matrix Bearer. All of it. Put my friend down and maybe we can just sit, sit and talk. I didn't want to kill your friend. Maybe we could see if your other friend is-”  
The Scavenger's shot took Rodimus in the shoulder, Rodimus was knocked back slightly.  
“You abandoned us!” screamed the Scavenger. He was firing his blaster wildly now, shooting at Rodimus, but not taking the time to aim. Rodimus jumped out of the way, switching his rifle from right hand to left as repair-circuits got to work on the injury. “You abandoned all of us! We could-”  
Rodimus blew the Scavenger's head clean off with his final shot. He watched as the body crumpled to the ground, Moonrock scrabbling to free himself. Moonrock looked from the Scavenger's corpse to Rodimus and back again.  
“Yeah,” said Rodimus. “I abandoned all of you.”

“I should have known,” said Moonrock. “Dantron was a rather stupid name.”  
“It's a good name,” said Rodimus. “No weight to it. Try having the most important name on the whole damn planet.”  
The two were sitting now, looking at the huge growth that had risen from the ground. It had stopped growing entirely, it's surface now having returned to stiff metal. The Scavenger who had been caught up in its cruel growth had stopped screaming. Eventually. The entire thing was now half a mile high. Buildings and pieces of road sticking out comically across its surface. The further up, the more that the dome shape seemed to disappear, instead, long and spindly growths were rising out of it, clawing at the sky and whatever long distance star that Cybertron orbited. A human word recalled itself in Rodimus' mind. Tumour. It was a tumorous growth of dead metal on a dying planet.  
“I heard rumours. That Koan-”  
“Yep,” said Rodimus. “Swallowed up in something like this. There was a camp there, people who didn't want to belong to any of the factions. All caught and eaten up by this thing.”  
“Do you know what it is?”  
“Just one more problem.” Rodimus sat back down. “On a whole list of problems with no solutions. Things like this growing all other the planet, other parts just splitting open and swallowing up whatever was nearby. There's something going on deep beneath the planet and we just seem to be letting it happen.”  
“What's inside?”  
“Don't know. Been too scared to cut one open.” Rodimus finished the repairs to the armour and sat down. He'd rather sit and wait a while before putting the armour back on, but he wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. Just in case the ground opened up with the weight of this new structure. After all this sick business though, there was one single bright-spot. They'd at least inherited one sky-sled and cut down on Rodimus' predicted travel time. Anything to get them away from this haunted place as quickly as possible.

 

Even with the sky-sled breaking down twice, it had taken them three days to reach Fortress Magnus and even then, they could see it long before they actually reached it. Fortress Magnus was nothing more than a walled ghetto. Huge chunks of the ground itself had been cut-out and lasered down to build the heavy fortifications. There was one thing about the city that couldn't help and capture people's attention. It was built around the bodies of two fallen Transformers, both deactivated centuries before the war between Autobots and Decepticon's had ended. A Decepticon attack on one of the former Autobot bases had been a costly and prolonged battle, ending only when Metroplex and Trypticon had fallen with Metroplex's hands wrapped around Trypticon's neck. It had almost been a mercy that Metroplex had died here, Rodimus thought. The mammoth Autobot's size had been too much a drain on resources to allow him to remain active for much longer.  
“Most of the surviving Autobots in this faction hide out in there.” Moonrock pointed at Metroplex. “I've heard there's enough power that the doors open and lights work.”  
“And everyone else?”  
“Emergency shelters.” Moonrock kicked the ground. “And believe me, they're the lucky ones. There's not enough energon to keep everyone going. There's survivors living off tiny rations, just kept in storage containers. ” A bleak look fell over Moonrock's face. “They don't even have the power to keep those going. They're forced to remain in there. Still functional. Those are the ones with power, the ones just left to depower, they just pile them one on top of the other. No-one else to store them.”  
“That's horrible.” Rodimus couldn't believe that Magnus would be willing to commit to such cruelty. At the same time, he doubted there was much else Magnus could do to keep order.  
“It's the only reason Ultra Magnus sends troops out to fight Springer and his Wreck-Lords. With only half-a-dozen working energon plants around the planet, it's a constant fight over who controls them. Magnus claimed this place because it still had a working energon plant, apparently that just about keeps the lights on and his men fed.”  
“You can justify anything by saying it's for survival, I suppose.” Rodimus turned and looked away before making their way down the hill. It had taken them days to get here and there was still another day of travel left to go, even with the one sky-sled they'd managed to salvage.  
“So when do you want to do this?” asked Moonrock. “ I doubt you want Magnus to know you're around.”  
“We'll wait until daybreak.” Rodimus trusted Moonrock to get him inside at least. Whatever would happen after that, he at least wanted to get a good sense of the city's layout. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally run into Magnus. “You want to rest. I'll keep watch.”  
“I'm good,” said Moonrock. “What about you?”  
“I don't need to,” said Rodimus, lifting the rifle into his arms, looking off towards the city.

“Rodimus?”  
It had been an hour, Rodimus still looking at the city, his mind going over a hundred different thoughts and ideas. Moonrock was lying on his back, looking up at the stars. Occasionally, the stars broke through the thick haze of smog and grime that seemed to permeate every inch of the Cybertronian sky. Occasionally, it even looked beautiful, rarely.  
“Rodimus?”  
“What?”  
“The Scavenger, he said-”  
“I know what he said. I don't want to talk about it.”  
“Did you real-”  
“Do you understand the words 'I don't want to talk about it?' It means. Quite simply. I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. It.”  
“Right. Okay. Sure, friend.”  
Moonrock turned over onto his side, away from Rodimus. Sighing, Rodimus lifted his rifle and gazed through it's sights. The rifle sights had a stronger magnification range than his own optical sensors. The city ahead of them was dimly lit by searchlights and the occasional sentry. With some grim amusement, Rodimus could see that a few of the sentries, the more motionless ones had been deactivated a long time. Even the dead had a part to play in this, a particularly grim form of recycling. Did they cut up the dead in Fortress Magnus, Rodimus thought. Give out the best bits to the people still clinging to life in this damned hell-scape? Hopefully, that wasn't the case, Rodimus still had to cling to the hope that Magnus hadn't thrown away every single inch of his moral code. But that was the thing, you start sacrificing, eventually, you could find any justification to chip away at the rest and-  
Rodimus froze. He was one to talk. Rodimus Prime? Hypocrite Prime more likely. Placing the rifle on the ground, he kept watch over the city, waiting for the dawn.

_“This wasn't how it was supposed to go!”_  
_Roadbuster was dead, Springer was rallying the rest of the Autobots at Autobase to begin chasing Magnus and those who had fled with him. Rodimus had been frozen in place for what felt an eternity, looking at the chaos around him. Roadbuster was dead, Scattershot was stretched out on the floor, dying. A slight clicking sound escaping the remains of his vocal unit. Rodimus knelt down, clasping the dying 'bot's hand and listened._  
_“Sor- So- Rrry- So- rrryyy-”_  
_“Is Scattershot able to fight?” Rodimus turned to see Springer above him, in one fluid motion, Springer kicked Scattershot's blaster across the floor, out of reach. Rodimus looked down, the clicking sound had finally stopped._  
_“Scattershot's dead,” said Rodimus._  
_“Good. They can't form Computron, that means the Technobots won't be as much of a problem.” Springer turned to the remaining Wreckers. “Find the Aerialbots, I think they'll learn our way.”_  
_“Excuse me!” Rodimus stood up and grabbed Magnus. “I don't think you heard me.”_  
_“I heard you.” Springer patted Rodimus on the shoulder. “It's a shame. But it's better this way.”_  
_“A soldier who just got gunned down by one of our own!” said Rodimus._  
_“This was clearly an attempted coup!” snapped Springer. “Magnus didn't like what you were going to do and took a shot at us! Rodimus, you're lucky he didn't try to kill you and take the Matrix for himself.”_  
_“He wouldn't-” said Rodimus. “We can sort this out. If we sit down and talk, we could-”_  
_“We can talk when Magnus surrenders to us,” said Springer. “Until then, we've got to hunt him down before this situation gets any worse.”_

_____ _

Rodimus hadn't seen Ultra Magnus since The Day. Maybe it was just as Springer had said. Springer had said a lot of things, Rodimus wondered how many of them were things Springer told himself to simply keep himself from going nuts. The sky was starting to bleed into a Cybertronian morning, a rust-coloured sky.  
It was time to get moving.  
“You ready to go?” he asked. Moonrock sat up.  
“Yeah, but there's one thing you'll have to know about our way in.”  
“What's that?”  
“You'll have to carry me.”


End file.
